"A GEN'LEMAN OB COLOUR."
"Thet swab of a Britisher boy," so opprobriously designated by the
first-mate as having been "fetched aboard at Liverpool" by the captain,
as if he were the sweepings of the gutter, was really no less a
personage, if I may be allowed to use that term, than myself, the
narrator of the following strange story.
I happened, as luck would have it, to be standing just at his elbow when
he made the remark, having come up the companion way from the cabin
below the poop by the steward's directions to tell Captain Snaggs that
his dinner was ready; and, as may be imagined, I was mightily pleased
with his complimentary language, although wondering that he gave me the
credit of pulling and hauling with the others in taking in sail on `all
hands' being summoned, when every idler on board ship, as I had learnt
in a previous voyage to New York and back, is supposed to help the rest
of the crew; and so, of course, I lent my little aid too, doing as much
as a boy could, as Mr Jefferson Flinders, the captain's toady and
fellow bully, although he only played second fiddle in that line when
the skipper was on deck, could have seen for himself with half an eye.
Oh, yes, I heard what he said; and I believe he not only called me a
`swab,' but an `ugly' one as well!
Indeed, I heard everything, pretty nearly everything, that is, and was
able to see most of what occurred from the time when we were off the
Tuskar Light until Captain Snaggs hailed the cook to come aft; for I was
in and out of the cuddy and under the break of the poop all the while,
except now that I went up the companion, and stood by the booby hatch
over it, waiting for the captain to turn round, so that I could give him
the steward's message.
But the skipper wasn't in any hurry to turn round at first, sticking
there grasping the rail tightly, and working himself up into a regular
fury because poor Sam didn't jump out of his galley at the sound of his
voice and answer his summons; when, if he'd reflected, he would have
known that the wind carried away his threatening words to leeward,
preventing them from reaching the negro cook's ears, albeit these were
as big and broad as the bell-mouth of a speaking trumpet.
The captain, though, did not think of this.
Not he; and, naturally, not recognising the reason for the negro's
non-appearance immediately on his calling him, he became all the more
angry and excited.
"Sam--Sambo--Sam Jedfoot!" he roared, raising his shrill voice a pitch
higher in each case, as he thus successively rang the changes on the
cook's name in his queer way, making the first-mate snigger behind him,
and even I could not help laughing, the captain spoke so funnily through
his nose; while Jan Steenbock, the second-mate, who was standing by the
mainmast bitts, I could see, had a grim smile on his face. "Sam, ye
scoundrel! Come aft hyar at once when I hail, or by thunder I'll
keelhaul ye, ez safe ez my name's Ephraim O Snaggs!"
The bathos of this peroration was too much for Jan Steenbock, and he
burst into a loud "ho! ho!"
It was the last straw that broke the camel's--I mean the captain's--
back, and he got as mad as a hatter.
"Ye durned Dutch skunk!" he flamed out, the red veins cross-hatching his
face in his passion. "What the blue blazes d'ye mean by makin' fun o'
yer cap'n? Snakes an' alligators, I'll disrate ye--I'll send ye forrud;
I'll--I'll--"
"I vas not means no harms, cap'n," apologised the other, on the skipper
stopping in his outburst for want of breath, the words appearing to be
choking in his mouth, coming out too quick for utterance, so that they
all got jumbled together. "I vas hab no bad respect of yous, sare. I
vas only lafs mit meinselfs."
"Then I'd kinder hev ye ter know, Mister Steenbock, thet ye'd better not
laugh with yerself nor nary a body else when I'm on the poop," retorted
Captain Snaggs, not believing a word of this lucid explanation, although
he did not seemingly like to tell him so, and quarrel right out. "I
guess though, as ye're so precious merry, ye might hev a pull taken at
thet lee mainbrace. If ye wer anything of a seaman ye'd hev done it
without me telling ye!"
Having administered this `flea in the ear' to the second-mate, the
captain turned round abruptly on his heel, with a muttered objurgation,
having some reference to Jan Steenbock's eyes; and, as he looked aft, he
caught sight of me.
"Jee-rusalem, b'y!" he exclaimed; "what in thunder air ye doin' hyar?
The poop ain't no place fur cabin b'ys, I reckon."
"The steward sent me up, sir," I replied, trembling; for he looked as
fierce as if he could eat me without salt, his bristly beard sticking
out and wagging in the air, as he spoke in that snarling voice of his.
"He t-t-old me to tell you, sir, that dinner was ready in the cabin,
sir."
The ship at the moment giving a lurch to port, as a fresh blast of wind
caught her weather side, sending a big sea over the waist, I rolled up
against him as I answered his question.
"Then ye ken skoot right away an' tell him thet I guess I'm boss hyar,"
cried he, after shoving me back with an oath against the cabin skylight,
which I almost tumbled over. "I'm goin' to hev my meals when I chooses,
I say, younker, an' not when anybody else likes, stooard or no stooard!"
With this return message, I retreated nimbly down the companion, glad to
get out of his reach, he looked so savage when he shoved me; but I had
hardly descended two steps, when he called after me with a loud shout,
that echoed down the passage way and made my flesh creep.
"B'y!" he yelled, making a jump, as if to grab hold of me. "B'y!"
"Ye-e-e-yes, sir," I stammered, in mortal terror, looking back up the
hatchway, though too frightened to return to nearer quarters with him
again. "Ye-e-yes, sir."
My alarm amused him. It was a sort of implied compliment to his
bullying powers; and he laughed harshly, nodding his head.
"What in thunder air ye afeard on?" he said. "I ain't goin' to kill ye
this time, b'y; it's another cuss I'm after, a kinder sort o' skunk of a
different colour, I guess. Look hyar, b'y, jest ye make tracks forrud
when ye've told the stooard what I've said, an' see whether thet
tarnation black nigger's asleep in his galley, or what. Won't I give
him fits when I catch him, thet's all--thaar, be off with ye, smart!"
I did not need any second intimation to go, but plunged down the
companion stairway as if a wild bull was after me; and, telling the
Welshman, Morris Jones, who acted as steward, a poor, cowardly sort of
creature, that the captain did not want his dinner yet, hastened through
the cuddy, and on to the maindeck beyond, coming out by the sliding door
under the break of the poop, which was the `back entrance,' as it were,
to the cabin.
The ship being close-hauled, heeled over so much to leeward that her
port side was almost under water, the waves that broke over the
fo'c's'le running down in a cataract into the waist and forming a
regular river inside the bulwarks, right flush up with the top of the
gunwale, which slushed backwards and forwards as the vessel pitched and
rose again, one moment with her bows in the air, and the next diving her
nose deep down into the rocking seas; so, I had to scramble along
towards the galley on the weather side, holding on to every rope I could
clutch to secure my footing, the deck slanting so much from the _Denver
City_ laying over to the wind, even under the reduced canvas she had
spread. To add to my difficulties, also, in getting forwards, the
sheets of foam and spindrift were carried along by the fierce gusts--
which came now and again between the lulls, when it blew more steadily,
cutting off the tops of the billows and hurling the spray over the
mainyard--drenched me almost to the skin before I arrived within hail of
the fo'c's'le.
However, I reached the galley all right at last, if dripping; when, as I
looked in over the half-door that barred all admittance to the cook's
domain except to a privileged few, what did I see but Sam Jedfoot
sitting down quite cosily in front of a blazing fire he had made up
under the coppers containing the men's tea, which would be served out
bye and bye at `four bells', enjoying himself as comfortably as you
please, and actually playing the banjo--just as if he had nothing else
to do, and there was no such person as Captain Snaggs in existence!
He had his back turned to me, and so could not notice that I was there,
listening to him as he twanged the strings of the instrument and struck
up that `tink-a-tink a tong-tong' accompaniment familiar to all
acquainted with the Christy Minstrels, the cook also humming away
serenely to himself an old ditty dear to the darkey's heart, and which I
had heard the negroes often sing when I was over in New York, on the
previous voyage I had taken a few months before, to which I have already
alluded--when I ran away to sea, and shipped as a cabin boy on board one
of the Liverpool liners, occupying a similar position to that I now held
in the _Denver City_.
This was the song the cook chaunted, with that sad intonation of voice
for which, somehow or other, the light-hearted African race always seem
to have such a strange predilection. Sam touching the strings of the
banjo in harmonious chords to a sort of running arpeggio movement:--
"Oh, down in Alabama, 'fore I wer sot free,
I lubbed a p'ooty yaller girl, an' fought dat she lubbed me;
But she am proob unconstant, an' leff me hyar to tell
How my pore hart am' breakin' fo' croo-el Nancy Bell!"
He wound up with a resounding "twang" at the end of the bar, before
giving the chorus--
"Den cheer up, Sam! Don' let yer sperrits go down;
Dere's many a gal dat I'se know wal am waitin' fur you in
de town!"
"I fancy you do want cheering up, Sam," said I, waiting till he had
finished the verse. "The skipper's in a regular tantrum about you, and
says you're to come aft at once."
"My golly, sonny!" cried he, turning round, with a grin on his ebony
face, that showed all his ivories, and looking in no whit alarmed, as I
expected, at the captain's summons, proceeding to reach up one of his
long arms, which were like those of a monkey, and hang the banjo on to a
cleat close to the roof of the galley, out of harm's way. "What am de
muss about?"
"Because you didn't turn out on deck when all hands were called just now
to reef topsails," I explained. "The `old man' is in a fine passion, I
can tell you, though he didn't notice your not being there at first. It
was that mean sneak, the first-mate, that told him, on purpose to get
you into a row."
"Ah-ha! Jess so, I sabby," said Sam, getting up from his seat; although
he did not look any the taller for standing, being a little man and
having short legs, which, however, were compensated for by his long arms
and broad shoulders, denoting great strength. "I'se know what dat mean
cuss do it fo'--'cause I wouldn't bring no hot coffee to um cabin fo'
him dis mornin'. Me tell him dat lazy stoo'ad's place do dat; me ship's
cook, not one black niggah slabe!"
"He's always at me, too," I chorussed, in sympathy with this complaint.
"Mr Flinders is harder on me than even Captain Snaggs, and he's bad
enough, in all conscience."
"Dat am true," replied the cook, who had been my only friend since I had
been on board, none of the others, officers or men, having a kind word
for me, save the carpenter, a sturdy Englishman, named Tom Bullover, and
one of the Yankee sailors, Hiram Bangs, who seemed rather good-natured,
and told me he came from some place `down Chicopee way'--wherever that
might be. "But, never yer mind, sonny; needer de cap'n nor dat brute ob
a mate ken kill us no nohow."
"`Cheer up, Sam! Don' let your 'perrits go down--'
"Guess, dough, I'se better go aft at once, or Cap'n Snaggs 'll bust his
biler!"
And so, humming away still at the refrain of his favourite ditty, he
clambered along the bulwarks, making his way to the poop, where the
captain, I could see, as I peered round the corner of the galley, was
still waiting for him at the top of the ladder on the weather side,
holding on to the brass rail with one hand, and clutching hold of a stay
with the other.
I pitied the negro; but, of course, I couldn't help him. All I could do
was to look on, by no means an uninterested spectator, though keeping
cautiously out of sight of Captain Snaggs' watchful eye.
The wind was not making such a noise through the shrouds now, for one
could distinguish above its moaning whistle the wash of the waves as
they broke with a rippling roar and splashed against the side like the
measured strokes of a sledge-hammer on the ship breasting them with her
bluff bows, and contemptuously sailing on, spurning them beneath her
fore foot; so, I was able to hear and see nearly all that passed, albeit
I had to strain my ears occasionally to catch a word here and there.
He had waited so long that perhaps his anger had cooled down a bit by
this time, for Captain Snaggs began on Sammy much more quietly than I
expected from his outburst against him when I was up on the poop.
He was quite mild, indeed, for him, as I had learnt already, to my cost,
during the short acquaintance I had of his temper since we had left the
Mersey--as mild as a sucking dove, with a vengeance!
"Ye durned nigger!" he commenced; "what d'ye mean by not answerin' when
I hailed ye?"
"Me no hear yer, mass' cap'n."
"Not haar me, by thunder," screeched the other, raising his voice. "Ye
aren't deaf, air ye?"
"Golly, yeth, massa," said Sam eagerly. "I'se def as post."
"Ye ken haar, though, when grog time comes round, I guess!" retorted the
captain. "Whar wer ye when `all hands' wer called jest now?"
"Down in de bread room, gettin' out de men's grub wid de stooard,"
answered the cook, with much coolness; "me no hear `all hands' call."
"Thet's a lie," said Captain Snaggs, furiously. "The stooard wer up
hyar on deck, so ye couldn't hev been down below with him, ye durned
nigger! I've a tarnation good mind to seize ye up an' give ye four
dozen right away."
"Me no niggah slabe," said Sam proudly, drawing himself up and looking
up at the captain, as if daring him to do his worst. "I'se one
'spectacle culled gen'leman, sah!"
"Ho! ho! thet's prime!" laughed out the skipper, astounded at his cheek;
while the first-mate sniggered his aggravating "he! he!" behind him.
"Oh, ye're `a 'spectable coloured gentleman,' air ye?"
"Yeth, massa; me free Jamaica born, an' no slabe," repeated Sam,
courageously, the first-mate's chuckle having put him on his mettle more
than the captain's sneer. "I'se a free man!"
"Guess ye've come to the wrong shop then, my bo," said Captain Snaggs;
"ye'll find ye ain't free hyar, fur I'm boss aboard this air ship, an'
want all hands to know it. Ye shipped as cook, hey?"
"Yeth, massa," replied Sam, as sturdily as ever. "I'se jine as cook fo'
de v'yage to 'Frisco at ten dollar de month."
"Then, Master Sam, Sammy, Sambo Clubfoot, ye'll be kinder good enuff to
take yer traps out of the galley an' go furrud into the fo'c's'le, as
one of the foremast hands. As ye wouldn't turn out when all hands wer
called jist now, ye'll hev the advantage of doin' so right through now,
watch in an' watch out all the v'yage! D'ye hear thet, Sam Clubfoot?"
"Dat not my name," said the other indignantly. "I'se chris'en Sam
Jedfoot."
"Well then, d'ye underconstubble what I've sed, Mister Jedfoot, if ye
like thet better--thet ye're cook no longer, an' will hev to muster with
the rest of the crew in the port watch? I'll put him with ye, Flinders,
I know ye hev a hankerin' arter him," observed the skipper, in a stage
whisper, to the first-mate, who sniggered his approval of this
arrangement. "D'ye understand thet, ye durned nigger, or, hev yer ears
got frizzed agen, makin' ye feel kinder deaf?"
"I'se he-ah, cap'n," replied Sam sullenly, as he turned away from under
the break of the poop, and made his way forward again to where I stood
watching his now changed face, all the mirth and merriment having gone
out of it, making him look quite savage--an ugly customer, I thought,
for any one to tackle with whom he might have enmity. "I'se he-ah fo'
suah, an' won't forget neider, yer bet!"